Not Noticing
by House Calls
Summary: There are a number of things Jim wishes he didn't notice. Set between "Beach Games" and "The Job"; slightly AU. Possibly one-shot.


**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything but this story idea and Barry. ;-)

"Is Pamela Beesly in, please?"

Jim Halpert paused on his way back to his desk, casting a glance at reception (where he knew Pamela Beesly was not, having just passed her in the kitchen/break room as she made her way to the ladies' room). He smirked at the sight of Kelly Kapoor, customer service rep and temporary receptionist, giving the tall, dark-haired man before her a careful once-over. _Did she just check for a wedding band? _

Shaking his head, Jim caught sight of his girlfriend looking at him from behind her own desk. Grinning at her, he took his seat and began flipping through the newest sales catalog from Dunder-Mifflin Paper Company. So much paper . . . so little – Jim shook his head again. So not going to go there. If things worked out well, the world of paper would become more than something he tolerated while trying to figure out what to do when he grew up. He _was_ grown up (and had the haircut to prove it, thank you) and was looking at a corporate position in New York. Paper was . . . not all that bad. He looked over at his girlfriend, Karen, again and smiled. It was pretty good, actually. Beach ramblings and such aside. Things were okay. He was okay – _they _were okay. He squashed any rumblings to the opposite as he ignored the camera he knew was focused on him.

Jim heard Pam's visitor say he would wait for her, he caught Kelly's giggly undertone as she told him to take a seat and if he was in a hurry, she could go get Pam because really, she shouldn't be long as she was just taking a quick --

"No, that's not necessary," the man interjected with barely concealed amusement. "I'm in no hurry."

Jim studiously focused on the sales catalog, feeling Karen's gaze on him as he tried to remember what last year's price had been for the cream-colored bond paper. He had just resigned himself to having to endure one of Dwight's lectures on the topic when Pam re-entered the main office area and let out a small gasp.

"Barry! You weren't supposed to be here until five!" She strode over to the tall man in the Brooks Brothers suit (with cuff links to boot), who was now unfolding himself from his seat, pushing his rimless glasses back up his nose as he smiled down at Pam. Not that Jim was staring. He was just very observant. It was part of what made him a good salesman. And the suit he recognized only because Karen had showed him some stuff on-line last night.

"I'm . . . sorry?" Barry laughed as he and Pam exchanged a quick hug. Jim also didn't notice the slight blush coloring Pam's cheeks as she took a step back nor when she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear while barely glancing his way. Again, he was just being observant. Plus anyone would notice her visitor looked like he could be David Wallace's brother.

"No, no – it's okay." Pam folded her arms across her chest (another thing Jim didn't notice) before cracking a joke about Barry having a lead foot. Jim knew without looking up that she was grinning at good ol' Barry.

"Pam-o-rama-lama-ding-dong!" Michael Scott, regional manager and fodder for much water cooler gossip, burst out of his office. He looked at Pam's visitor with unbridled glee before mugging for the camera behind him. "Wowza!" Michael returned his attention to Barry. (Jim almost felt sorry for Barry). "Who is this fine fellow, hmm?" Barry shook Michael's proffered hand firmly. Jim gave up trying to pretend he wasn't paying attention.

"Barry White. I'm Pam's –" Barry was cut off by Michael singing what could have been _Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Baby _by the late great Barry White. But Jim didn't want to try to be sure – Michael had already ruined a few too many classic songs for him. He was also oddly relieved Barry was not related to David Wallace.

"Uh, yeah." Barry tapped his pursed lips with his right index finger. "I get that a lot. So much so, in fact, that I carry the entire Barry White music catalog around in my head."

"Oh, he does," Pam added, nodding her head seriously at Michael while still not looking at Jim. Not that it bothered Jim or anything. Like he said, he was just incredibly, cursedly observant.

Michael was staring at Pam's . . . friend with an unmistakable mix of awe and wonder. "Man, that's just . . . I mean, _Stanley_ doesn't even know one of his songs, and it's, like a part of his _culture_."

Stanley let out an exasperated sigh.

"Mmhmm, mmhmm," Barry nodded his head. "That is troubling indeed; but --" he looked at his watch "-- I'm only in Scranton for the weekend and it has been years --"

"Years," Pam affirmed with a nod of her head.

"Yes, years," Barry continued, "since we've seen each other. Look," he took a step closer to Michael, lowering his voice. "I know the receptionist is one of the key cogs in any office-type thing, but do you mind if I --?" Barry made a few motions with his hands indicating he meant to whisk Pam away. "I'll bring her back by one, I promise." Barry looked over at Pam as he traced an x over his heart. Jim could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Oh, yeah – sure, no problem-o!" Michael waved his hand in dismissal. "Long lost loves and all should never be kept apart when at last the twine shall meet!" Michael guffawed at the camera.

Pam didn't correct him.

The rest of the office was silently attentive.

"Um, yeah." Pam looked down at her shoes (black leather ballet flats Jim hadn't seen before), maybe over at Jim (he wasn't sure – Karen had cleared her throat and distracted him), then back at Barry. She might have winked. Barry definitely did. "Thanks, Michael," she said as Barry bowed slightly leading to Michael trying to pretend such an act embarrassed him. Pam made her way to the reception desk, mouthed a 'thank you' to Kelly (who could presently give the Cheshire Cat a run for his money) and was out the door with Barry (who placed his hand on the small of Pam's back as he reached ahead of her to open the door), hitching her purse up on her shoulder as the door clicked softly behind them. She hadn't looked back once. Well she might have . . . but Karen had cleared her throat again.

Not that Jim noticed or anything.


End file.
